


What could go wrong?

by BlackBird_writes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Luggage swap AU, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBird_writes/pseuds/BlackBird_writes
Summary: “I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you.”“Don’t worry Akaashi-chan!” Oikawa replied, chipper. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine~! What could go wrong?”In which Oikawa is a famous supermodel, and Iwaizumi is an up and coming business man, and the two find out that a lot can go wrong.Luggage swap AU.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 168





	What could go wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> So I had to find my luggage case from the depths of my garage to go on a trip somewhere, and as I held the bag in my hand, the idea came to me.
> 
> I had a bit of a block on the other story, so I thought I'd try to smash this one out to get rid of the creative block.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

The sounds of a luggage case zipping closed filled the near empty apartment, and a concerned voice filtered through the tinny reception on the brightly coloured smart phone.

_“I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you.”_

A tall figure stood up in the shadows of dying sunlight, and the luggage was stood upright onto its wheels. Hard bodied and sleek in design, the suitcase was dark navy in colour with a few white accents and a black pull up handle.

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine~!” Oikawa Tooru sang into the mobile, propping it between his shoulder and ear as he puttered about the apartment and cracked open a few windows slightly. “You have such little faith in me Aka-chan.”

_“Don’t call me that.”_

Oikawa chuckled as he picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes _manager._ Is that all for today? You know I actually have to get going soon if you want me to catch that flight.” The voice on the other end sighed heavily.

 _“I don’t know. This is our first major photo shoot with the Osaka branch and I just want it to go well. I also know you have a propensity to become a walking talking travel disaster as soon as you step foot outside Tokyo or Miyagi,”_ the other voice deadpanned, and Oikawa chuckled again.

“You’re talking to me like I’m some sort of newbie to the modelling industry,” he placated, sitting down in his genkan to slip on his most comfortable pair of travel sneakers.

 _“Did you pack your skincare this time?”_ Oikawa squawked at the question.

“That was _one time_ Akaashi-chan!” This time, the chuckle filtered through from the other side of the mobile phone. Oikawa tapped both his shoes on his feet and wheeled his luggage case forward, jumping slightly to settle the duffle bag on his shoulders comfortably. “If you can believe it,” Oikawa began in a normal voice, before cupping his hand to the receiver and whispering. “I have the beginnings of a _pimple_ developing-”

 _“What?! Now?! Have you ever even had a pimple in your life Tooru-san?!”_ the voice on the other line asked in outrage.

“Don’t worry Akaashi-chan!” Oikawa replied, chipper. He opened up his apartment door, wheeled out his luggage (which was admittedly heavier than was probably allowed, but he’ll flirt his way onto the plane) and locked the apartment door with the sense of finality of someone who was leaving their home for a week. “I packed my special pimple spot treatments, so it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

 _“For your sake and mine, I hope it is.”_ Oikawa laughed and began to wheel his luggage to the elevator.

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine~! What could go wrong?”

\----

After taking a taxi to Narita Airport, Oikawa found himself waiting at the airport terminal at 6pm on a Sunday with a large cap, huge sunglasses and a surgical mask on to conceal himself. He wore a baggy jumper and slouched in his seat to hide his height as he scrolled to kill time on his phone.

“Excuse me,” a timid voice began, and Oikawa sighed heavily. _How did a fan spot me like this?_

“Yes?” Oikawa said tightly, turning towards the source of the voice, sunglasses dropping down his nose in surprise as he regarded his intruder. Smiling, kind amber eyes with a beauty mark underneath the left crinkled at him as shining, silvery hair glowed in the artificial airport light.

“Could I get an autograph please?” he teased, pitching a terrible fake voice deliberately, and Oikawa shoved at him playfully, guffawing. Sugawara Koushi laughed as he set his backpack into a chair and dropped into the seat beside him.

“Suga-chan! That’s not very refreshing of you to do, Mr. Refreshing!” Oikawa whined, and Suga’s chuckles died down.

“You should’ve heard your voice, and how _done_ you sounded!” he continued to laugh, and the two began to chatter as they caught up. Having worked together with Suga since they both started with Aoba Jousai modelling at the same time, the two spoke with a practiced ease and comfort that 7 years of camaraderie brought them.

“Oh, isn’t Kuroo taking this flight with us too?” Oikawa asked, and Suga hummed.

“Yeah. But he’s probably taking his time saying goodbye to his kitten,” he replied, and Oikawa wrinkled his nose.

“Isn’t pudding-chan coming to the shoot with us? I thought he was our acting photographer and editor,” Oikawa asked in confusion.

“Ah, well he’s not needed until 2 days into the shoot, so they booked him on a separate flight. Time is money and all,” Suga shrugged, and Oikawa hummed in response.

“Hm. If Kuroo has to separate from his Kenma, then that means-”

“Haah? Are you two still here wasting time?” a harsh voice cut in over Oikawa’s voice. Oikawa and Suga looked up to see Kuroo wearing a beanie, round, small lens sunglasses and his entire posture slouched with his hands buried quite clearly as fists in his pockets. “Hurry up, our flight’s in 20,” he grouched, and he immediately turned around to head to their departure gate without waiting.

 _Ah_ , the two handsome men thought in tandem. _There he is. Grumpy Kuroo._

Oikawa and Suga shared a look between each other and snickered as they gathered their bags and hurried their way towards Kuroo, who shouted at them again to hurry up. The three bickered and pushed until they settled into their seats on the flight – “Why do _I_ have to be window seat again?” “You’re the shortest Mr. Refreshing, our legs are too long.” “Then why the hell am _I_ not sitting in the goddamn aisle seat, my legs are longer than yours Oikawa!” – and then their plane took off.

Always never a fan of flying, Oikawa whined and complained almost the whole way as he bickered with an already grouchy Kuroo, and a glare from an even more grouchy businessman flying in front of them to their right shut them up. Suga simply put his neck pillow on – “Hey Suga-chan, let’s share.” “No way. Daichi bought this for me.” “Stingy!” – and slipped his eye mask over his eyes to nap for their hour and five minute flight.

Finally, their airplane landed at Itami Airport, and Oikawa and Kuroo, much to the chagrin of Suga, had not stopped arguing. They were currently attempting to make it to the luggage claim in one piece.

“Don’t think for a second I didn’t notice that pimple on your face Oikawa,” Kuroo threatened, and Oikawa gasped. “I’ll wipe all the sweat and oils from that airplane ride onto my sebaceous glands and rub it into that pimple to make it the biggest thing you have ever seen,” Kuroo sneered, wiggling his fingers close to Oikawa’s face. “It’ll be so big, it’ll rival your massive-headed ego.” Suga coughed into his fist to prevent himself from laughing, but the grouchy businessman from earlier openly chuckled as he walked past them.

“You would never _dare_ ,” Oikawa seethed, grabbing a fist full of black hair as Kuroo went down with it. “You touch my face and you _die_ Kuroo Tetsurou, do you hear me? I’ll shave you fucking bald, since the only thing you have going for you is your hair.”

“Let _go_ , you absolute _psycho_!”

“Guys!” Suga called exasperatedly as they neared the luggage claim area. The conveyer belt started to move into motion, and suit cases began to roll their way down. The two were still arguing behind him, so Suga huffed as he stepped forward to claim his lilac coloured soft-case luggage bag. Not too far behind it, Suga saw Kuroo’s red luggage case with the black cat luggage tag on it, which he undoubtedly knew belonged to Kenma, so he reached forward and took that down too.

Suga frowned as other travel-weary passengers stepped forward to claim their bags, but Oikawa’s was yet to show up.

“Tooru, did your bag-” Suga had no time to finish, because the next thing he knew, Kuroo sprinted to the beginning of the conveyer belt and swiped up what was unmistakably Oikawa’s luggage case from the way he was screeching behind Kuroo.

“Well if you never get your bag, you won’t get your stupid pimple patches!” Kuroo shouted as he ran with the luggage case like a prize above his head. Oikawa screamed and screeched his way after him, and Suga sighed loudly as he began to wheel the two luggage cases himself, along with Kuroo’s duffle bag which he left behind.

The three piled into a company limousine that waited for them at the arrivals sector, and then they were off to their hotel for the night. Kuroo was remarkably out of breath, with his hair even messier than its usual standard, and Oikawa huffed in his seat with his arms and legs wrapped around his luggage bag like an octopus, guarding it with his life. Suga sipped from his juice box which he dug out of the small refreshments fridge, and texted Daichi that he was already ready to come home.

Upon walking up to the hotel’s reception desk, Oikawa shamelessly flirted as Kuroo smiled kindly and spoke smoothly as though he wasn’t in the foulest of moods, and Suga just tried to maintain the peace. They were handed their respective room cards and the three wandered their way over to the lifts, exhaustion finally settling in. After the lift doors dinged open on the 10th floor, Oikawa walked out first and the three began to eye the room numbers located next to the doors to find their accommodation for the week. Oikawa stumbled across room 102 and gratefully held his card up to the small electronic panel next to the door. The card reader beeped, and a heavy, well polished door swung inwards to a 5 star single room suite.

“Ahh~ a bed and shower at last!” Oikawa cried out, and an exasperated sigh sounded from the hallway.

“You were only on the plane for like an _hour_ , you’re so spoilt,” Suga sighed as he walked to his room at 103. Oikawa turned around to stick his tongue out at him.

“Well so _rry_ for being _high maintenance_ ,” Oikawa grumbled.

“God, I told you that _once_ like 4 years ago,” Kuroo’s loud voice interrupted, carrying down the plush carpeted hallway as he walked past both of them to get to room 105. “Get over it.”

“Make me!” Oikawa began to roll up his sleeves, Suga wrapping his arms under Oikawa’s armpits to hold him back.

“ _Tooru!_ Just ignore him, you know how he gets when he doesn’t get to travel with Kenma,” Suga lectured. “Just go inside, pop on that pimple patch and go to sleep for an early start tomorrow, okay?”

Oikawa harrumphed, crossing his arms and glaring at the back of the mess of black hair until a beep sounded and the tall male disappeared into his own room a few doors down.

“Fine. I guess not all of us can have a cute kitten with us at all times on the job,” he grumbled, and the fair-haired beauty sighed in relief.

“Okay, okay. Just make sure to be ready for breakfast and meet us downstairs in the lobby at 7am, okay?”

“Ye~s,” Oikawa dragged out reluctantly, closing his door and wheeling his dark navy suitcase in. The brunet clicked his card into the card reader built into the wall, and the room was immediately illuminated with light. He walked around and began to get comfortable, settling himself into the room and putting his duffle bag down by the arm chair that overlooked the balcony.

Puttering around, the opulence of the simple 5 star room was beginning to brighten his mood, and the brunet started to sing off key whatever tune came to mind.

“Hmm, I think I’ll treat myself to a bath first,” he hummed to himself happily, flicking the lights to the bathroom and absolutely vibrating with happiness at what he saw. Rose quartz marbled counter tops with golden sink ware and accents, and a massive shower that could fit 4 fully grown adults in there. A large, wall length mirror adorned the far side of the bathroom and the brunet squealed. “Aka-chan, you’ve really outdone yourself!” he praised, running over to the bath tub to turn the water on. After experimenting with the temperature (“Ohh! There’s even a TV here!”), he sauntered back over to his dark navy luggage case with white accents right across the entrance of the bathroom and tilted it onto its side, noting that it seemed a lot easier to do here than it was at home.

“I’ll treat myself to a bath soak, pop on that pimple patch, have a good beauty sleep,” the brunet rattled off the list to himself, rolling the little numbers until it was the default combination of 000, popping open the inbuilt lock system the luggage had and began opening the zippers. “I’ll have a beautiful shoot, be praised for my beauty again, and Aka-chan will have nothing to worry about-”

_Mm?_

  
Pausing, Oikawa froze where he sat, kneeling on the ground with his left hand lifting the lid of the luggage case, and his right on the bottom lip of the case for balance. His mind absolutely blanked, and the only thing he could hear right now, was his own stupid voice as it played in sing song repeat in his head, staring quite clearly at a suitcase that was not his.

_“What could go wrong?”_

\----

“Fuck!”

A chuckle sounded over the phone call.

 _“Iwaizumi. You’ll do fine,”_ the low, soothing timber of his co-worker/boss comforted over the phone. Pacing back and forth in his apartment, Iwaizumi Hajime felt like a mess. After coming home from work, he had loosened his tie and messily rolled up his sleeves, his suit jacket already thrown onto the back of one of his dining chairs the second he got home.

“I know. No, I don’t. How do you know I’ll be fine, Sawamura?” Iwaizumi began to say restlessly, and the male on the other end hummed. “This is my big shot. I can’t believe I was selected for this. Did you do this?”

 _“Mm. Maybe,”_ Daichi said thoughtfully, and Iwaizumi barked out a laugh in disbelief. _“I might have thrown your name around while they were choosing a candidate.”_

“Knowing you, you would’ve pegged it at their faces until they accepted,” Iwaizumi said breathlessly, disbelieving of how lucky he was right now. Daichi laughed at his words, and responded indignantly.

 _“I’m not that forceful, am I?”_ he asked, a little unsure and Iwaizumi chuckled.

Iwaizumi currently worked with Karasuno Incorporated, an up and coming business conglomerate that was making its way up in the corporate world, and Daichi was his direct supervisor. Iwaizumi’s work and successful job deals and sales were starting to become recognised, and Daichi made an offhand comment (or four) including Iwaizumi’s name as the big bosses discussed the business conference that was happening in Osaka, and who they should choose to represent Karasuno. Finally, Iwaizumi’s name was picked, and Daichi beamed with pride as Iwaizumi was called into their Tokyo office that day, and told the news. Iwaizumi still remembered the feeling of elation that swept through him when he found out he was selected. Now, a week had passed and tomorrow was the big day.

“Boss, if anybody can get the job done, or choose _me_ as a representative for the Crows, it’s you,” Iwaizumi chuckled, emptying out this morning’s mug of coffee and giving it a rinse. “What do I need to take to this hotshot trip?” he went on to ask, and Daichi and Iwaizumi switched back into business mode. The two discussed the upcoming conference, the daily itinerary that was sent to Iwaizumi’s email, and the possible questions he might be asked during the presentation. They went through mock questions, the names of the big wigs – _“He’s quite round, big nose with a mole on the side of it. His hair’s a wig, but no matter what you do, do **not** mention it, or get it to fall onto your own head.”_ “My- what? Is there a backstory to this?” – and the elbows of which people Iwaizumi should rub with.

“Ugh, the more we talk about this, the more I remember I hate networking,” Iwaizumi began to grumble, sinking lower into his couch. Daichi laughed heartily on the other side of the phone call.

 _“You’ll be fine. Trust me. We've all been there before.”_ Just as Iwaizumi was going to reply, he heard shuffling and another muffled voice on the other end. Iwaizumi paused and waited as Daichi seemed to be speaking to someone in person. _“Oh? You’re leaving now? You better not be late.”_ Some undecipherable whining came through, and the sound of fabric rustling suddenly became loud in Iwaizumi’s ears.

 _“-love you Daichi. Don’t miss me too much,”_ an unfamiliar voice said sweetly over the line, and Daichi hummed in response, and Iwaizumi cringed a little as he most definitely heard a kiss just then.

 _“I will. Love you. Have a safe trip,”_ he replied, and after a pause of silence, Daichi’s voice came back to the phone. _“Sorry about that. My other half is leaving on a trip for work too.”_ Iwaizumi shrugged and cleared his throat.

“That’s alright. Where are they going?” Iwaizumi found himself asking as he eyed his prepacked duffle bag and luggage case in the corner of his living room.

 _“Huh. I don’t actually know this time. They travel frequently for work, but this time he’s gone for a week,”_ Daichi replied nonchalantly, and Iwaizumi raised a brow. _“Anyway! Isn’t it time for you to go soon too?”_ Daichi began to ask, and Iwaizumi scowled as he sunk even further into his couch, his back now lying against the seat meant for his ass.

“… Yes,” Iwaizumi eventually grumbled out and the nerves had returned in almost full force. He got up to change clothes into something more comfortable for the flight, and Daichi laughed his reassurance again.

 _“You will be fine,”_ he said firmly, enunciating each word clearly and slowly, and Iwaizumi let out a slow exhale as he stood in the dark of his bedroom. Looking down at the speech notes he hand wrote on his desk, Iwaizumi brushed his fingers against the worn paper he had spent hours and hours practicing, and felt a small smile slowly stretch across his face.

“Yeah. Yeah I will be.”

 _“You’ve got a speech and everything, yeah?”_ Daichi asked, and Iwaizumi quietly replied ‘yeah’, as he set aside a pair of comfortable grey sweats and a loose green hoodie, along with an almost threadbare white tshirt. _“Good. You have the presentation and notes in your laptop and briefcase?”_

“Yeah, all packed and ready to go,” Iwaizumi replied, placing his phone down on his bedside table on speaker before unzipping his trousers and shucking them off his legs as he unbuttoned his shirt.

 _“Then you, Iwaizumi Hajime, have nothing to worry about,”_ Daichi said with the firm finality of someone who had nothing left to say on the matter, and Iwaizumi couldn’t be more grateful as he slipped his travel clothes on, and adjusted the strings of his hood.

“Daichi-san,” Iwaizumi said suddenly, and his boss gave a small ‘hm?’ in reply. Iwaizumi swallowed, and opened his mouth to continue. “You’re the best boss I’ve ever had, and I’m so thankful for all you’ve done for me.” There was a pause of silence on the line before Daichi laughed and Iwaizumi exhaled the last bit of anxiety out of his body.

 _“You always were so honest, Iwaizumi. One of your best traits,”_ Daichi commented fondly, and Iwaizumi felt his ears turn hot. _“Now, go! You’ve practiced this to hell and back, and I bet you will blast them away.”_

“Ossu!” Iwaizumi said out loudly for confidence, Daichi chuckling in the background.

_“Good on you, Iwaizumi. What could go wrong?”_

  
  


\----

Daichi hung up on the phone after that, saying something about cleaning the house in advance for when his partner comes back, and Iwaizumi bid his goodbyes to get ready to leave.

After shoving his speech notes into his hard case, dark navy luggage bag with white accents, Iwaizumi unzipped the bag just to make sure his laptop and the presentation he was giving was in the bag, before zipping it back up again and pulling the black handle up. Exhaling, Iwaizumi grabbed his nice suit bag which contained his nicest charcoal suit jacket and pants, and his teal blue tie.

Pausing, Iwaizumi turned to the dragon tree houseplant that sat next to his balcony door. He nodded his head at the plant that sat and listened patiently as he practiced his speeches, and called out his goodbye.

“I’m leaving now, Ivan. Watch the house for me.”

With one last look, he hooked the suit bag onto his duffle bag, switched off the lights for his apartment, and made his way to Narita Airport for the 7pm flight to Osaka.

\----

Apart from a noisy and annoyingly tall duo on the plane, Iwaizumi’s flight went without a hitch, managing to doze off for half the time on the flight. When the bickering got too loud, Iwaizumi looked back to shoot them a look, to which they both bowed their heads and shut up after that. When they were nearing their landing, Iwaizumi felt himself get restless, foot tapping incessantly on the plane’s tacky carpeting.

 _What if I stuff up the presentation?_ Iwaizumi began to doubt himself. The pilot’s voice began to flow over the intercom, and Iwaizumi shook his head, crossing his arms. _Don’t be stupid, you idiot. Daichi put his faith in you._ Iwaizumi subconsciously listened to the flight instructions being relayed over head, and buckled his seatbelt in. _You’ll be fine_ , he thought to himself with conviction. The din of the cabin began to reach his ears and as he looked up, most of the passengers had already made their way out.

“Do you need assistance sir?” a kind voice asked to his left, and Iwaizumi looked up at the air hostess who was clearly waiting for him to leave. Flustered, Iwaizumi bowed his head multiple times and reached up into the overhead space to get his duffle bag out and off the airplane.

 _You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine_ , he continued to think to himself in a mantra, even as he walked himself to the baggage claim.

“Don’t think for a second I didn’t notice that pimple on your face Oikawa,” Iwaizumi overheard as he kept walking. _Ah, the noisy duo again._ “I’ll wipe all the sweat and oils from that airplane ride onto my sebaceous glands and rub it into that pimple to make it the biggest thing you have ever seen,” the taller, dark haired guy threatened, wiggling long fingers into a brunet guy’s face. “It’ll be so big, it’ll rival your massive-headed ego.” Blinking, after he got over the surprise of hearing something so petty Iwaizumi laughed as he walked past. He heard the brunet respond to the tall guy, and a fair haired male beside them coughed. _Man, to be worried about something so trivial,_ Iwaizumi thought to himself, walking to the baggage claim and situating himself comfortably in the middle. _If only my problems were that little._

 _Ah!_ Iwaizumi tensed, immediately ruffling in his duffle bag. He vaguely heard shouting and running in the background, but paid them no mind. _Did I pack my speech notes?!_ He continued rummaging around in his duffle until he remembered he shoved them into his luggage case. Breathing a sigh of relief, Iwaizumi pressed a hand to his rushing heart and looked up at the conveyer belt.

After a couple of minutes, he spotted his dark navy case with white accents that his mother bought for him and almost smiled in relief. _It’s fine. You’ll be fine_ , Iwaizumi continued to think to himself, hauling the bag off the belt. The bag was a little heavier than he remembered packing, but weight wasn’t an issue when you trained at the gym as frequently as Iwaizumi for stress relief. _You’ll be fine,_ he repeated to himself in Daichi’s strong tenor in his head.

 _You’ll be fine_ , he repeated as he sat restlessly in the taxi on the way to his hotel.

 _You’ll be fine,_ he repeated as he checked into his hotel suite.

 _You’ll be fine,_ he said to himself as he brushed his teeth and stared at himself in the mirror.

Iwaizumi got his sleep shorts and t shirt out of his duffle and changed into it without further fuss, flicking the light switch and lifting the blanket and sheet off the hotel bed. Just as he was about to get in, his head snapped over to his luggage case, sitting innocuously over in the corner of the room.

 _… Maybe I should rehearse once more?_ Iwaizumi thought to himself, long and hard, before shaking his head with an equally shaky smile. _No. What am I thinking? I’ve practiced it like a hundred times to Ivan._ Iwaizumi lifted his leg onto the bed and found his head snapping to the suit case again.

_… but what if I just practiced once more?_

“ _Argh!!!_ ” Iwaizumi shouted, grabbing his hair with both hands. “Idiot! Just sleep!” Iwaizumi scolded himself loudly, diving into bed so that he wouldn’t change his mind and dive at his suitcase instead. He rolled around in bed for 5 minutes before settling on a compromise with himself and grabbing his phone to set his alarm. “… I’ll just get up an hour earlier to practice, and then that’s it.” Satisfied, he set his alarm to 6am instead of 7, placed his phone on do not disturb mode and drifted off to sleep.

_What could go wrong?_

\----

“ _How could this happen?!_ ” Oikawa all but shouted into the phone with Japan Airlines. “What do you mean no one handed in a luggage case like mine? Where has mine gone then?!”

 _“I’m sorry customer, sir, but it’s true,”_ the airline telephonist replied. _“Nobody has handed in a luggage of that description. In fact, everybody has picked up their luggage from that flight, and nothing was left behind.”_

“I haven’t got my bag, so that can’t be!” Oikawa pleaded as he swung the door to his hotel room open, grabbing the card from its place in the wall at the last second. 

_“I’m sorry sir. These mistakes happen often. Japan Airlines recommend you attach a luggage tag to your bag to avoid confusion in the future. If you leave me with your contact details, I will contact you immediately once the person who collected your bag hands it in.”_ Oikawa picked up his pace for the last few steps to his destination and forced the door handle several times, kicking at the door to 105 at the same time.

“You don’t understand, I need the bag _now_!” Oikawa yelled, frantically increasing his aggressive door handle wiggle as his kicks increased in tempo.

_“Until the other person who took your luggage case brings it to our attention, I’m afraid I can’t help you sir.”_

“What in the _freaking hell-_ ” Kuroo began yelling, swinging his door open mid kick. Oikawa’s foot connected with Kuroo and more howling took place. Oikawa began to rattle off his contact details to the background noise of Kuroo’s profanities.

“Ensure you call me _straight away_ when it gets handed in! No matter what time! I-” Kuroo grabbed Oikawa’s phone and threw it in the hallway with all his might. “ _Kuroo!!!!_ ” Oikawa all but screamed, as Kuroo rubbed his injured shin.

“What on _earth_ are you two screaming about?!” Suga began to shout, shoving his door open. He watched the debacle unfold as Kuroo tried to close the door on Oikawa, but Oikawa had his fist in Kuroo’s face, and if the two weren’t careful, one of them was going to lose a limb soon. “Stop! I said _STOP!!!_ ” Suga shouted at the top of his lungs as he lunged towards the two.

\----

After sporting bruises on their stomachs, and on their leg too in Kuroo’s case, Oikawa found himself sitting in front of the cursed suitcase again, as Kuroo and Suga both looked at the contents of the suitcase over his shoulders.

Inside were neatly pressed and folded business shirts, a couple of undershirts and boxers, and a briefcase containing a laptop. Some crumpled A4 papers with what appeared to be a speech were rumpled in the mix, and Kuroo whistled lowly.

“Ooh. Not looking so good with those pimple patches now huh princess?” Kuroo mocked, and Oikawa spun around to glare at him.

“Shut up! This is an emergency! Our itinerary and stuff were in there! So were the contact numbers of the modelling agency we’re working with!” Oikawa shouted, pointing a finger at Kuroo. Suga lowered Oikawa’s arm and crouched down into a squat beside him.

“Okay, okay, I’ve had enough with both of your squabbling today. Tooru, don’t worry, I got sent a copy of everything from Akaashi too.” Kuroo grinned while Oikawa glared, and Suga turned Oikawa’s face back to the bag forcefully. “ _Now_. To focus on the matter at hand. Let’s see who this belongs to?” Suga asked, and Oikawa’s eyes lit up. Having freaked out the moment he saw the plain, white business shirts, Oikawa went straight into a meltdown and passed the logical thinking stage. “Kuroo, look through this briefcase for us?” Suga delegated, passing the black briefcase to the tallest of the 3.

“Ye~s sir,” Kuroo affirmed, taking the briefcase from his hands and opening it up.

“Tooru, look through these notes and see if there’s any indication of who wrote them?” Suga asked, and Oikawa began rifling through the handwritten notes to look for any indication as Suga began removing articles of clothing from the bag.

“Laptop’s password locked boss,” Kuroo drawled from his perch on the bed. “Login username is ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’.”

“Who the _hell_ is that?” Oikawa began to whine, and Suga snapped out a sharp ‘focus!’ at him so that he would continue reading the notes. After finding nothing personal in the, quite frankly, boring clothes, Suga leaned up and looked through the briefcase with Kuroo, the laptop set aside in the meantime.

“Have you found anything?” Suga asked Oikawa, and Oikawa mournfully shook his head.

“It just looks like a speech for a presentation. I dunno, maybe he’s in uni? There’s no-”

“Ahah!” Kuroo exclaimed. Suga and Oikawa whipped their heads towards Kuroo, who held a small white stock business card in his hand. “Iwaizumi Hajime! His number is 090 8384 7312!” Oikawa scrambled for his mobile, realised it was smashed and non-functional because Kuroo pegged it at the wall earlier, and threw it at Kuroo’s head in frustration. Kuroo ducked while Suga hurriedly jabbed the numbers into his own phone and dialled the mobile.

“The number you have called is busy. Please try again later. _Beep_.” The three stared at the mobile in shock before Suga hurriedly jammed his thumb on the redial button. “The number you have called is busy. Please-” Oikawa reached over and hung up the phone, and the situation began to sink in.

“… Look, I know this is shit,” Kuroo began to say slowly, in a manner that a human would speak to an injured lion. “But we have a good lead so far. We have a name, we have a number, but it’s a bit late at night and I think he’s on do not disturb right now.” Suga nodded his head and tentatively hovered his hand near Oikawa’s arm.

“Kuroo’s right. Our best chance is tomorrow morning,” Suga began, and Oikawa slowly flopped sideways into his lap, the adrenaline and stress of the evening finally wearing off. Suga sighed in relief, stroking his fingers through Oikawa’s hair soothingly as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking into Suga’s soft flannel pants. A silently sulking and crying Oikawa was much better than a screaming hysterical Oikawa. “Your skin type is the same as mine, you can borrow my skincare products tonight until we get your luggage back, okay?” Suga soothed, and after long moments, Oikawa barely nodded, still crying.

Suga looked up at Kuroo who sat on the bed, and Kuroo ruffled his hair roughly, sighing loudly. Kuroo left the room, closing the door behind him, and Suga kept stroking his fingers through Oikawa’s soft, plentiful locks. With no clothes for a week, no skincare or shampoo, or hair products or even new underwear, Oikawa began to laugh wetly.

“… what a first world problem, right?” Oikawa said wetly, and Suga giggled.

“What a first world problem indeed.” Oikawa had always been a model, having starred in catalogues and fashion magazines since he was 8 years old, and beauty and materialistic items were simply a part of who he was. In the greater scheme, he understood how petty it was to be obsessed with one’s image to the point of crying, but it was the life he grew up with. To be watched at every moment, to be judged for every action, and to be mocked for whatever meals he might’ve tried to treat himself to. Having joined the modelling industry at 16, Suga was aware it was a lucrative and unkind business, and understood how Oikawa felt at the moment. The two sat on the floor a little while longer, and Kuroo marched back inside with Oikawa’s room card, loudly talking with someone on the phone.

“Oi, Kawa!” Kuroo called out. He walked over and placed the phone in front of Oikawa, who still laid himself in Suga’s lap. Kenma’s bored face was on the screen, and Oikawa entered a fit of crying again.

“ _K-K-Kenma-ah-ah-ah,_ ” he began to sob, large tears rolling down his cheeks as he crawled forward to hold the phone.

 _“Tooru,”_ Kenma sighed softly on the other side of the video call.

“ _Kenmaaaaaaaaaah,_ ” he continued wailing, and Suga rolled his eyes fondly as he got up to leave and get his skincare products for Oikawa. Kuroo rolled his eyes a little less fondly as he stood with his arms crossed, nodding at Suga when he walked past and exited the room.

 _“Tooru, Kuroo told me what happened. Are you still sad?”_ Kenma asked quietly, and Oikawa nodded vigorously as he continued crying. _“Don’t be such a big baby, you’re an adult now, it’s unbecoming,”_ Kenma chastised, and Oikawa bawled louder. Kuroo snickered as he saw Kenma’s face scrunch into a grimace on screen, and Oikawa made an effort to staunch his cries. _“You have the man’s name and his phone number don’t you?”_ Kenma reassured, and Oikawa sniffled as he snorted out a ‘yes’. _“Then you’ll be fine, okay?”_ Kenma said in his blunt, truthful tone, and Oikawa’s sniffles began to die down.

Kenma’s blunt nature and (sometimes painfully) truthful personality in itself could be a comfort to Oikawa, who was used to being surrounded by liars and sycophants and people who only told him the things he wanted to hear when they weren’t sincere about a word of it.

 _“Kuroo is going to buy you a new phone for breaking yours,”_ Kenma began, and Kuroo protested half-heartedly in the background – “I didn’t _mean_ it!” – and Oikawa nodded along. _“And we’ll try that number again tomorrow morning. If in two days, you still have no sign or haven’t heard about your luggage, I’ll go to your apartment and bring you more stuff when I come down to the shoot. Now will you stop crying?”_ Kenma asked firmly, and Oikawa nodded with a little more vigour. Wiping at his eyes, Oikawa handed the phone back to Kuroo, and pressed his fingers to his eyelids. A soft knock at the door prompted Kuroo to open the door to Suga, who walked in carrying his skincare and two headbands shaped like mouse ears and bunny ears in grey and white colours respectively.

“Kawa, I’m gonna go back to my room now. Just knock like a normal person if you need something, alright?” Kuroo said exasperatedly, ruffling Oikawa’s hair, and he nodded from his spot on the floor.

“Mmhm. Bye Kenma,” Oikawa said, and Kuroo prodded him in the side with his foot for the blatant ignorance of his goodbye, while Kenma trailed a quiet ‘bye,’ over the video call.

“Night Kuroo,” Suga chirped as he popped the bunny eared headband over Oikawa’s hair and pulled it over his face, pushing his hair back and out of the way. Kuroo shut the door and Suga smiled sunnily at Oikawa, who felt blessed in that moment to have such an angel in his life. “Now, let’s see what we can do for you tonight, hm?”

\----

The next morning, Iwaizumi woke to the blare of his alarm and 2 missed calls from a private caller ID. Furrowing his brows, there weren’t any voicemails or texts left behind, so he left it and got up to shower and brush his teeth.

Freshly washed and brushed, Iwaizumi walked towards his suitcase with an unusual sense of calm. _I worked my ass off for this_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself, settling the suitcase down onto the side. _I worked fucking hard for it, and I practiced with Ivan until I’m sure I accidentally made a leaf fall off_ , he continued as he flicked the numbers on his suitcase to the default setting of 000 because he was too lazy to change it.

 _I’ll be fine_ , he thought to himself, as he unzipped the bag and lifted the lid to the suitcase, and immediately felt his heart drop and his breath leave his lungs. Pausing, hunched over the suitcase, Iwaizumi stared at its contents, closed the lid, observed the hard casing and its dark navy colouring and white zippers and accents, and opened it up again, hoping that for some reason if he confirmed it was the right suitcase, his items would magically appear again.

He felt all colour drain from his face as he dropped back onto his ass, staring at the bright and colourful clothing that packed the suitcase to the brim, including clear toiletry bags that held more bottles and tubs of cream that he had ever seen in one bag before. Minutes ticked by in silence as a rising, detached sort of panic began to overtake his numb shock.

 _What the fuck?_ He thought to himself.

“What the fuck,” he said out loud, and he dove onto the bed for his phone to scroll through his contacts, fumbling with his passcode a couple of times before he called Daichi in a panic. After frantically dialling his number, it rung out once before Iwaizumi called him a second time and he picked up on the third ring.

 _“Hullo?”_ Daichi slurred over the phone, before Iwaizumi started cussing.

“Boss. Fuck. Sawamura. _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi began, raking his fingers through his hair, and Daichi began to awaken at the sound of his employee under stress.

 _“Iwaizumi? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”_ he began to ask, and Iwaizumi pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose hard.

“Boss. I don’t have my fucking presentation,” he said in one large gust of breath, and there was a moment of silence before Daichi replied quietly.

 _“What?”_ A beat of silence. _“What do you mean, you don’t_ have _your presentation?”_

“My suitcase isn’t mine,” Iwaizumi choked out. “ _Fuck._ Somebody took my suitcase, it must’ve gotten swapped at the airport. Sawamura, I’m so sorry, I-”

 _“Iwaizumi,”_ Daichi cut off firmly, and Iwaizumi shut up. _“It was a mistake. Accidents happen. Have you called the airline?”_

“Not yet,” Iwaizumi sighed out in a gust. “I called you first,” he said thickly.

 _“Okay. You call Japan Airlines and sort out where your stuff actually went. I’ll call Kindaichi, he should have a copy of your presentation. If anything, he can email the presentation through to you, and you’ll just have to use your charging cable to connect it to the laptops at the convention centre via USB. How does that sound?”_ Daichi had ordered, more than asked, and Iwaizumi was so grateful to have Daichi’s sure voice in the morning.

“Sounds like the only option to me,” Iwaizumi said weakly, and to his surprise, Daichi let out a powerful laugh.

 _“What a first presentation to remember!”_ he joked, and Iwaizumi felt a half smile, half grimace come to his lips. _“Seriously though, call the airlines and sort out your bag. I’ll sort out things on this end, you hear me? You’ll be fine,”_ Daichi said firmly, and Iwaizumi nodded, before responding an affirmative verbally.

“Okay. Thanks boss. Sorry again,” he said before saying his goodbyes, and hanging up with Daichi on the phone. Iwaizumi scrolled through his recent calls, and saw that the missed private calls from last night were about 9pm, around an hour after he landed. _Fuck, those must be the people who found my shit,_ Iwaizumi cursed, swearing at himself for putting his phone on do not disturb mode at bed time.

Searching the number for Japan Airlines, Iwaizumi called up their customer service, and almost wept at the good news.

 _“Oh! We did have a customer call last night saying he had the exact same problem. Could you describe the luggage case please?”_ the woman’s voice could be heard saying on the phone.

“Uh, blue. Dark blue? What’s the co- Navy! It’s a navy colour with like white zippers and locks and stuff,” Iwaizumi began to describe, stumbling over his words.

 _“Mmhm. It appears the customer last night lost a case matching that description sir,”_ the voice over the phone said, and Iwaizumi almost cried as he glanced at the digital clock in his hotel room. 6:36am. The presentation was at a convention centre 20 minutes away by taxi, and it started at 8:30am. If things went smoothly, he would be presenting at 8:45am. _“Would you like me to pass you the customer’s contact details to arrange-”_

“Yes. Please, yes now,” Iwaizumi said abruptly. Apparently the owner of the suitcase was an Oikawa-san, and their contact number was written on a spare memo pad in Iwaizumi’s scrawl, and he hung up as soon as it was polite enough to do so, wasting no time as he rang the number. As soon as he rang however, the number went straight to voicemail.

 _“Yaho~. It’s Oikawa Tooru’s phone. I’m a little busy at the moment, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you! Bye bye!”_ * _beep_. Iwaizumi was in shock, disbelieving of his shit luck that just seemed to get worse with each passing moment, before he let out a “what the fuck?” by accident, realising the voicemail would have saved his outburst. Iwaizumi quickly hung up the phone, and redialled the number.

The same obnoxious and airy voice came through the air through voicemail again, and Iwaizumi was about to tear his hair out. After the dial tone, Iwaizumi hung up and tried again. On the third voicemail, Iwaizumi cursed while Oikawa let out his practiced spiel of his voicemail message, and this time after the beep, Iwaizumi left a message.

“Hey, it’s Iwaizumi. Um, Hajime. Look, I’ve got your suitcase, and I think you have mine, and this is really urgent, so if you could please call me back as soon as possible on this number, we can give our suitcases back, and be on our merry way. So, uh, please call back soon.” Iwaizumi hung up the phone and let out a long breath. He looked at the suitcase, still propped open against the wall in the corner, and swore under his breath. He glanced at the time on his phone. 6:47am. Time was speeding past, it felt like, and Iwaizumi raked his fingers through his unkempt hair.

“Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi swore, and he lunged off the bed onto his two feet before stalking over to his suit bag, stripping off his pyjamas along the way until he was just in his briefs. He may as well get started on his appearance if nothing else, and Iwaizumi unzipped the bag to don his suit. Upon unfolding and opening the bag, Iwaizumi realised a grave error was made.

He stared at the nice charcoal suit jacket and pants that hung in the black bag, devoid of any white shirts that he could wear with the suit, but complete with his nice teal blue tie. He stared for a while longer, and if he could have any worse luck, Iwaizumi thought he could kill a man, right then and there. Minutes passed, and Iwaizumi picked up his suit jacket and stared at it, not knowing what he had done to deserve such shit karma.

He paid his bills on time, helped old ladies cross the road, sometimes taught the young kids how to play volleyball at the park, and worked diligently from 8am to 5pm every weekday. What had he done to deserve any of this?

Desperate, Iwaizumi eyed the suitcase in the corner, and sent an apology to Oikawa’s way.

 _If he ain’t gonna pick up his phone, the least he can do is help_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself as a sort of justification as he began pulling out items of clothing, crouched in a squat on the floor in front of the bag. He pulled out orange windbreaker jackets, tie dye t shirts, hideous pastel shirts with aliens on them, purple button ups until finally, he picked up one white button up shirt which looked decent enough to wear, if only temporarily (just long enough for the conference, to make it through the presentation). But as he held it by the collar, he realised it was no ordinary button up, and it wasn’t folded up like the rest of the shirts, but rolled up. He pulled it by its collar (or lack thereof) and watched as the shirt unravelled, and a teal blue dildo matching the exact colour and shade of his tie had rolled out, and landed with a soft thud between his bare feet.

Iwaizumi didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or die at that point.

_What did I do to deserve this, God?_ He asked himself quietly, raising his head to the ceiling and letting himself mentally shut down before he actually went on a rampage and killed everybody outside that hotel building.

It was 7:15am by the time Iwaizumi accepted his fate, and walked out of the hotel wearing his charcoal suit and a white shirt that didn’t belong to him, and was clearly not in his size, as the shirt pulled tight against his chest each time he breathed, and the tie sat around his neck with no collar to fold over it, the shirt collar resembling that of something like a qi pao’s. Iwaizumi googled the Our Father’s prayer despite being an atheist, and memorised it in his head as he chanted it repeatedly, as though sending a whole bunch of prayers for the first time in his life to God would simply erase the fact that he was going to a business conference at a convention centre with no laptop, no speech notes, and essentially no presentation while dressed in someone else’s clothes.

\----

The next morning was a rush of chaos, as the three models woke up at varying times around 7am, and rushed around trying to get ready on time while simultaneously attempting to avoid paparazzi. Oikawa borrowed Kuroo’s clothing in the meantime, as they were both similar in size, and the three of them piled into a sleek black sedan with tinted windows, sunglasses and surgical masks on to deter the flash of the cameras and the squealing of fans.

After piling into the car, the three breathed out sighs of relief, ripping off their glasses and masks. Suga leaned back into the car seat, whereas Kuroo leaned forward to aim the aircon vents his way, and Oikawa looked forlornly at his smashed mobile phone in his hands. The screen was smashed beyond recognition, and the phone didn’t even light up or function anymore. Kuroo scowled as he looked at the phone guiltily.

“Sorry Oikawa,” he grumbled. “I’ll buy you a new one after the shoot, ‘kay?” Oikawa shot Kuroo a look before snootily upturning his nose on him and swishing his hair while looking out the window. He jammed his fists into Kuroo’s jacket pockets, and frowned when he felt stiff cardboard in his right fingers. Oikawa pulled it out to reveal the business card of the stranger he accidentally exchanged luggage cases with, and he scowled. The car slowed to a stop, and just as Oikawa was about to ask to borrow one of the others’ phones, Suga pocketed his mobile that he spent the last 15 minutes furiously texting on and announced ‘we’re here’. Masks were donned and sunglasses were slipped back on in a rush, and Oikawa placed the card back into his pocket.

The three hustled out of the black sedan and onto the elevator that would take them to the upper floors where the shoot was going to be held. Suga spent the entire walk and ride on his phone, still texting, and Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

“Everything alright, Suga?” Kuroo asked and Suga sighed as he locked his phone and pocketed it.

“Fine, fine. Well, maybe not for Daichi,” Suga sighed, and Oikawa made a noise in his throat with a questioning inflection. “He sent one of his subordinates to do a major presentation today, but the presentation got lost? Daichi’s so stressed he’s not really making sense,” Suga explained, feeling anxious for his partner that was obviously losing his mind at the moment. “I’m trying to give him solutions but he’s in between messaging me, calling work, and organising something for the poor sap that’s got nothing.”

“Sounds to me like the subordinate shouldn’t have lost the presentation,” Kuroo commented bluntly, linking his fingers behind his head as the elevator dinged open. Oikawa made a noise of agreement as he fiddled with the card in his pocket, his suitcase lingering at the back of his mind.

“I don’t know, I don’t think this is as simple as it sounds,” Suga said unsurely, and Moniwa, who was one of the modelling agency’s agent and photographer, noticed the three models and waved them over.

“Wow! Great timing guys, you’re even here a little early!” he exclaimed. “Saeko-san! They’re here!” he called out to a blonde woman with piercings who stood a few metres away.

“Ah well, can’t do much about it now, can you? You’re all the way in Osaka,” Kuroo drawled and Suga sighed again as he shed his jacket.

“Yeah, you’re right. I just wish I could do more to help.”

“Seems like nobody’s having a good time on this trip,” Oikawa scowled, and the other two agreed as the blonde woman began walking over.

“Nice to meetcha! My name’s Tanaka Saeko, I’m your makeup artist for today~ Call me nee-chan,” Saeko introduced herself with a wink, spunky with attitude and full of good energy. The three models politely bowed and introduced themselves. “Okay, well if we’re going to get this show on the road, it looks like we’ll be doing Kuroo-kun and Oikawa-kun first, so if you two could please head over to the chair first? Sugawara-kun, can you wait on the chair by that wall for your turn?” Saeko explained, and the three diligently began following orders. Suga walked over to his designated chair, and Oikawa trailed after him, Kuroo having already followed the make-up artist. Suga turned around and raised a brow at Oikawa.

“Tooru? What’s wrong, aren’t you getting your makeup done?” Suga asked, eyeing the pimple that Oikawa had a cry about for approximately 10 minutes that morning. Oikawa stripped off Kuroo’s red jersey jacket and pulled out the business card.

“If you don’t mind,” Oikawa mumbled. “Could you please call the number and try again?” he asked, and Suga held the jacket in his lap and took the card.

“Oh! Oh, of course. You go ahead-”

“Oikawa-kun! Chop chop, time is money! It’s 7:50 already!” the boisterous voice of Saeko called out.

“Ah, sorry Saeko-neechan! Coming!” Oikawa called out, and he squeezed out a quick thank you to Suga before running off. Suga smiled at him, wished him luck, and laughed as he heard Saeko flutter about the pimple.

“Ooh, looks like a bad one,” she teased, and Oikawa yelped, covering his face with a hand.

“You can cover it though, right?” he asked worriedly, and Saeko gave a full bodied laugh.

“Of course I can! Whaddya take me for, ah? Concealer is magic in our days now.”

Suga chuckled as he watched the scene unfold, pulling his mobile from his jean pocket to do as Oikawa asked. As Suga looked down at the familiar white stock business card however, he felt as though time trickled to a stop as puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

 _Wait a minute_ … he thought to himself. The back of the card had a black calligraphy like motif, a crow painted flying out of a circular paintbrush stroke, a company design Suga was very familiar with. He turned the card around, and his eyes widened as his mouth dropped.

**Iwaizumi Hajime**

**Karasuno Incorporated**

**Salesperson**

**090 8384 7312**

“Oh,” Suga breathed to himself in shock. “Fuck.”

\----

Iwaizumi checked his phone as he walked through the doors of the convention centre, and read the time as 7:36am.

At this stage, he still had time.

Iwaizumi let out a shaky breath as he kept fidgeting and tapping his foot on the nicely tiled floor, ignoring the looks of other prominent businessmen as they walked past him and gave him strange looks. He glanced at his phone every so often, waiting for Kindaichi’s email or a phone call from ‘Oikawa’ or hell, even one from Daichi that miraculously said something along the lines of ‘the convention’s cancelled, you have another day to prepare!’ However, no matter how hard he hoped, more minutes passed, and things were looking worse by the minute.

At 7:43am, Iwaizumi caved and called Kindaichi.

 _“Iwaizumi-san?!”_ Kindaichi answered the phone breathlessly.

“Kindaichi,” Iwaizumi muttered urgently, mindful of the people who kept looking at him and his _tie_ for some reason. “How is it going? I still haven’t gotten the presentation yet.”

 _“I’m sorry Iwaizumi-san, I’m really trying, but the file says it’s too large to send over email,”_ he said, sounding panicked as he explained. _“I’m trying to break it up and divide it into smaller files and get it across in different emails.”_ Iwaizumi bit his thumb in anxiety as he racked his brain.

“You can’t download it into a zip folder?”

 _“Sawamura-san already suggested that, but when I tried to reopen it, the presentation format pretty much exploded and it wasn’t cohesive anymore,”_ Kindaichi explained, sounding as though he was on the verge of tears.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi swore, and Kindaichi almost became a blubbering mess on the other side.

“ _I’m so sorry Iwaizumi-san-_ ”

“ _Fuck,_ Kindaichi no, it isn’t anything to do with you, if anything, you’re trying to help me out of this shit situation,” Iwaizumi tried to reassure him. “I’m very thankful to you, I’m sorry if I don’t seem that way, I’m just fucking stressed to hell and back-” Iwaizumi paused as he heard beeps on his phone, and looked at the screen to see Daichi’s name flashing.

 _“I’ll try harder, I promise, I’ll figure out a way around it-”_ Kindaichi still blubbered, and Iwaizumi cut him off.

“It’s fine, sorry, Daichi-san’s calling, have to go,” before he hung up on Kindaichi and accepted Daichi’s call.

 _“Iwaizumi!”_ Daichi gasped.

“Daichi-san!”

 _“I just tried to call Kindaichi, I don’t know what’s going on, but he won’t pick up and I can’t figure out another way for the presentation to get to you-”_ he began to explain in a single breath and Iwaizumi cut him off.

“Boss! Kindaichi was on the phone to me, he was probably too stressed to notice you were calling him,” Iwaizumi explained. He heard Daichi sigh in relief.

 _“Oh thank god, I thought it was so out of character for Kindaichi not to pick up,”_ he began. _“So is it fixed? Have you received the email yet?”_ Daichi asked with an almost manic sort of hope.

“No,” Iwaizumi said, feeling as though he had just physically hurt himself denying Daichi.

 _“No?!”_ Daichi replied, his voice pitched higher than Iwaizumi had ever heard it. _“Iwaizumi, it’s nearly 8am,”_ he continued, trying to obviously keep calm, but also knowing in his bones, that they were really, truly fucked.

“I know, Daichi-san, I know,” Iwaizumi exhaled, rubbing his hand roughly over his face. Other businessmen continued to mill around and walk past him, but as the clock got closer to 8:30, people were starting to file into the auditorium to take their seats. There was silence on the other end, where Iwaizumi had to double check and make sure his phone was still connected to Daichi’s call. “Boss,” Iwaizumi began thickly. “I’m _so_ sorr-”

 _“Iwaizumi,”_ Daichi said firmly, and Iwaizumi tensed in his spot, feeling sweat drip down his back and under his armpits. _“Don’t apologise. This is no way your fault,”_ Daichi lectured, and Iwaizumi blew out a breath.

“I could’ve avoided this though, if I had _just_ checked my luggage the night before, or just, _fuck_ , put a fucking luggage tag on my goddamn bag-”

 _“Ifs and buts won’t help us now,”_ Daichi cut him off, and Iwaizumi scowled, knowing his boss was right. _“We can only focus on what we can do now in the present.”_ Iwaizumi inhaled a deep breath, and let it out slowly, focussing on lowering his excessive heart rate. _He’s right,_ he thought to himself. Racking his brain, Iwaizumi scowled something fierce as businessmen started to avoid the wall where he stood and gave him a large berth to stand alone.

“… I think I know most of my speech,” Iwaizumi began. “It’ll be hard without the slides to prompt me… but I can talk without the presentation if you want.”

 _“Iwaizumi, I love your hard-working ethic, but our sales projections and statistics were all in those slides,”_ Daichi began, and Iwaizumi’s heart sank. _“I don’t think even Ushijima could get up and present like that with all the numbers off the top of his head,”_ Daichi tried for weak humour, but Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to see light of the situation. A few long moments passed, and Daichi sighed loudly, long and slow, and Iwaizumi had a feeling he knew what the next words would be.

 _“I think,”_ Daichi said slowly, and Iwaizumi’s whole body felt cold with a sudden rush of anxiety. _“I should call Nekomata-san, and tell him that we’ll present next year.”_

 _No,_ Iwaizumi thought to himself. This was meant to be their opportunity. Nekomata, head of Nekoma Corporate who was co-hosting the event, had personally invited Karasuno to speak at the event and use the trip as a networking opportunity to get their foot in the door and take a huge step up the corporate ladder. Daichi and the higher ups had all worked hard to be recognised, had pleaded to the right people and stayed long hours to make profits just to make it this far. To call him and tell him they had to cancel…

“Boss,” Iwaizumi choked out. “You worked so hard on this, I can’t… I’m so sorr-”

 _“It’s fine,”_ Daichi cut off in a voice that said it was not fine. _“I’ll tell him extenuating circumstances happened, but that you’re still there and available to network. We just can’t present this year.”_ A loud ringing was filling Iwaizumi’s head, as dread began to fill every pore of his body, and he felt his hands and feet become heavier with each second. _“It’s fine, we can present next year, we’ll just work twice as hard and get 3 times as many numbers so that people_ have _to invest in us…”_ Daichi began to go on, but Iwaizumi couldn’t listen.

 _I fucked it. It’s fucked. I single handedly ruined our chance because of a stupid fucking **suitcase**_ -

 _“Iwaizumi?”_ Daichi cut in, and Iwaizumi cleared his throat multiple times before speaking, afraid that if he let go in that moment, and the tears started falling, they wouldn’t stop until he made a pitiful effort to network with puffy eyes and a red nose.

“Yeah boss?”

 _“It’s not the end of the world,”_ Daichi said softly, and Iwaizumi bit his lip fiercely. _“We’ll try again next year. I’m going to call Nekomata-san now, okay?”_ Daichi said, and Iwaizumi nodded before realising his mistake.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t say anything more. He didn’t have anything more to say.

After a few more quiet goodbyes, Daichi hung up and Iwaizumi tore his jacket off, folding it into a bundle and unbuttoning his sleeves to roll them up roughly. He squatted and bent his knees, knocking his head against them as he bit his lip to hold the tears in. As soon as Iwaizumi lifted his head back to knock his head against his knees again, his phone began buzzing in his hand again. Dread began to fill him, thinking it was Kindaichi again to tell him ‘sorry, I can’t send it, there’s no chance and you ruined this company for us’, when he looked at the screen in confusion. It was a private blocked number, and Iwaizumi slowly answered the phone and brought it up to his ear.

 _“Hello?”_ a breathless, airy but male voice answered.

“… Yes?” Iwaizumi answered. He really didn’t have time for commercial telemarketing calls right now.

 _“Is this Iwaizumi Hajime?”_ the breathless voice asked, and the sound of a car door slamming could vaguely be heard. _“I’m Oikawa Tooru. My best friend is the boyfriend of your boss, I think you work for the same company?”_ Confused, Iwaizumi knew there was a link to all of this, but the stress of this morning took its toll. Furrowing his brows, Iwaizumi tried to replay all of the muddle of information just given to him, when it clicked as Oikawa started speaking again. _“Sorry. I just ran down to the car so the chauffer could drive me back to my hotel, I’m out of breath and I’m just borrowing this phone. Suga told me one of Dai-chan’s employees lost his presentation stuff. I’m pretty sure our suitcases accidentally got swapped?”_

Bingo.

“FUCK!” Iwaizumi exclaimed, shooting straight up onto his legs fast enough that his tie flapped about for a moment as other businessmen studiously ignored Iwaizumi as though he were a plague. “I mean!” he controlled his voice, embarrassed, excited, and delirious all at once. “Yes! Yeah, our bags, I mean. Are you going to get my bag right now?” Iwaizumi asked in one breath, checking the time on his watch quickly. 8:07am. Cutting it _real_ close.

 _“Yeah! Suga pretty much screamed at me because Dai-chan was so stressed about this whole thing. You’ve got a presentation coming up right? And you need that briefcase?”_ Iwaizumi nearly started laughing hysterically at this turn of events. _“Suga looked at your business card and realised you worked for his boyfriend. When Dai-chan messaged him about an employee not having his stuff for a conference, the dots connected for him and here I am!”_ Oikawa said airily, and Iwaizumi usually wouldn’t appreciate someone speaking so familiarly to him first go, but if he showed up with his laptop, Iwaizumi could _kiss_ him.

“God, you have no idea what you’re,” Iwaizumi began, choking over his words. “I mean, thank you. Just. I don’t care about the suitcase, I don’t have yours with me. Could you please just bring that briefcase with the laptop in it?” Iwaizumi asked. _For god’s sake do not leave the laptop behind._ “I’ll give your suitcase back after business hours today if that’s okay? We can exchange suitcases then, I just, _I really fucking need that laptop_ ,” he said huskily towards the end. He heard a strange, small strangled noise on the other end before Oikawa replied.

 _“Sure. I’ll come- I mean!! Run! To you. Actually, to the briefcase, uh,”_ Oikawa stuttered, and Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, incredulous. _Don’t flip on me now I need that fucking briefcase_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself. _“I’ll just run up and grab your laptop and briefcase and then head straight over there,”_ he amended himself. _“You’re at the International Convention Centre right?”_ Oikawa confirmed, and Iwaizumi affirmed it.

“Yeah. Yes. God, thank you _so_ much. I don’t know how to tell you this but you’re saving my ass right now.”

 _“You can start by buying me a coffee,”_ the voice on the other line said airily, almost like it was a well-used automatic line, and Iwaizumi, not really using his head before his mouth, replied.

“God, I’ll buy you goddamn _dinner_ as long as you show up with the laptop,” he replied, and he heard a small _‘eep’_ on the other end.

 _“It’s a date then, Iwa-chan! Okay, I have to go now, bye bye!”_ the voice on the other line said hastily, and Iwaizumi blinked at the dial tone. Slightly irritated by the nickname, and usually thinking he would be infuriated by someone speaking so _friendly_ with him when they haven’t even met yet, he was too relieved to bother thinking about much else.

A shot of panic spiked through his system however, as he remembered Daichi’s face and his timber voice.  
  


_“I should call Nekomata-san, and tell him that we’ll present next year.”_

“ _Shit_ ,” Iwaizumi cursed, hurriedly putting his jacket back on and then running towards the auditorium. At that point, it was 8:12am. The convention was starting in 3 minutes.

Sprinting, he slammed the auditorium doors open, but their heavy weight allowed his entrance to be mostly unheard from the people who sat in the front row. Iwaizumi stood at the doors with an almost manic look in his eye, scanning the crowd until he spotted the thin wispy hair of Nekomata Yasufumi sitting in the front of the auditorium. Racing down the steps awkwardly, as they were designed the way all lecture halls were, with unevenly shaped and lit stairs, he sprinted towards Nekomata and stood in front of him at attention.

Startled, the older man stopped talking to the male sitting next to him, looking up at Iwaizumi as though he were there to rob him.

“Nekomata-san!” Iwaizumi huffed, trying his hardest not to breathe all over the big host of today’s event. “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime. From Karasuno Incorporated!” he announced, and watched as the old man’s eyes narrowed shrewdly at him, but clearly it was in disappointment. Tensing his resolve, Iwaizumi didn’t let it bother him as he waited for Nekomata to acknowledge him.

“Ah, I see. You’re that young man,” he said, and Iwaizumi furrowed his brows further. “It is disappointing, Daichi has already told me the news,” he continued to drawl, and was shocked again by Iwaizumi when he launched himself forward into a 90 degree bow.

 _“Please allow me to present today!”_ he all but shouted, and the background chatter of the audience were beginning to quieten down when they realised something was happening at the front to the co-host of the business event. Blinking, Nekomata looked at him sceptically.

“But Daichi told me you don’t have a presentation to give? Something about a mistake with the airline-”

“I’m fixing it right now,” Iwaizumi said determinedly, standing straight back up with enough force for his tie to wave around. Nekomata glanced down at the tie before looking up at Iwaizumi again. Iwaizumi held his gaze unwaveringly, and continued to try and talk his way into presenting again. “I won’t disappoint you, Nekomata-san. Our company has been soaring, and I want to show you just how well we've been doing, and how much more we can do,” he said quietly, but steadfastly, and Nekomata sighed through his nose. Reluctant, but still a chance.

“See to it that you don’t disappoint me, boy, or you will regret it,” Nekomata warned quietly with a small smirk on his face.

Iwaizumi had a fire in his eyes as his back straightened, and nodded in return.

 _Challenge accepted_.

With that, Iwaizumi strode back up the steps, ignoring all the stares and whispers as he walked past, and opened the doors back to the lobby outside again. He closed the doors to the sound of one of the presenters speaking on the microphone at the podium opening up the conference meeting, and starting the convention.

Pausing outside the doors as they shut, Iwaizumi began to let the panic set in again, and checked his phone again. 8:20am. Iwaizumi tapped his foot impatiently on the tile and tried to do the math in his head, but realised there were no numbers to do it with. He didn’t know how far this Oikawa person was from work to his hotel, didn’t know which hotel he was staying at, and couldn’t even call him back because the damn phone was still on private caller ID.

Iwaizumi began to pace the halls, feeling his nerves come and go as it pleased, as he talked himself up, and then into a nervous jitter, and then back up again, until he checked his watch again and saw it was 8:36am with no sign of the person or his laptop. He glanced down at his phone to perchance see if Kindaichi could send anything, but no luck. He saw his phone buzz a few times, and read Daichi’s name flash across the screen. Panicked, Iwaizumi declined the call. The phone stopped, only for it to buzz again with Daichi’s name, and again, he declined the call. The third time was nearly made into a game, as Iwaizumi watched for his phone screen to darken and as soon as he read the kanji for Daichi, tapped the decline button once more.

There was no way he could speak to Daichi without breaking down into an absolute mess now.

He watched his phone screen for a moment longer, and after a minute or two, saw it light up with a text from Daichi.

Almost afraid to open it, he spent another 2 minutes waiting it out before his nerves got the best of him and he tapped open the text.

**Sawamura Daichi - 8:38am**

**Suga called m and told me wat gappned Iwazumiu I swer two god wat teh fcuk are yo doinfg, I told yuo it ws finer nd now youre just going ahed and prsenting, what if t doesmt mak it n tiem, but yu said you wre prsenting fuck wht dd yo tell Nekmato omfg Iwaizuni**

Staring at the phone, Iwaizumi struggled to decipher all the typos of Daichi’s horrid text. He had never seen Daichi make many typo mistakes before, let alone this many. Truly, this simply depicted how stressed Daichi was, and if the time stamp was anything to go by, Iwaizumi was going to be just as stressed if the guy didn’t show up like _right now_ -

“Iwa-chan?” a breathless voice called out down the hallway, and Iwaizumi turned to look at the person who called out the terrible nickname.

“Don’t call me that,” was the first automatic response that fell out of his mouth. It was also the only response that would fall out of his mouth for possibly the next five minutes, as he stared at the tall person jogging his way. Coming to a stop, the tall brunet stood in front of him, holding his prized briefcase with his precious laptop inside, and Iwaizumi couldn’t do much more than blink and stare at the person holding it.

A bit taller than him, with brown hair that fell in waves on his head, and swept to one side on his forehead, Oikawa Tooru had chocolate brown eyes, a straight nose, and a clean jawline with high cheekbones. He had shiny, pink lips which made Iwaizumi question whether or not this male was wearing actual makeup, and wore a crisp white button up, tailored to fit his lean torso and his well defined shoulders. His long legs were accentuated by slim fitting tiny houndstooth slacks that were basically tailored to his skin, cinched in at his hips with a black belt with a stylish gold buckle. His ankles were showing, with black, shiny loafers on his feet, and Iwaizumi had to drag his eyes _past_ the extra long legs back to Oikawa’s face, who was also staring at Iwaizumi himself, particularly his clothing of choice, his chest and his biceps and-

“Is that my shirt?” Oikawa asked, and Iwaizumi swallowed guiltily.

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, look, my laptop?” Iwaizumi tried to interrupt, but Oikawa had more to say.

“Are you wearing a _tie_ with a _mandarin_ collar?” Oikawa asked incredulously.

“I’m Japanese,” Iwaizumi replied obliviously, and Oikawa’s mouth gaped.

“Sorry, no. You’re not presenting like this,” Oikawa started, setting the bag down and stepping forward.

“What the fuck-” Iwaizumi began, stepping back, but Oikawa grabbed him by his tie and yanked him forward, which really, shouldn’t have turned him on, but his vaguely stirring loins didn’t get the memo.

“I’m a model, I know clothes,” Oikawa snapped as he started to undo Iwaizumi’s tie, and Iwaizumi had pretty much given up at that point. _Of course he is,_ Iwaizumi thought to himself. _And of course this is my life. Being fixed on my appearance by a supermodel who swapped luggage cases with me before a huge business presentation._

After the tie came off, Oikawa fussed with the buttons, unbuttoning two, re-buttoning one, and then tutting as he observed the length of Iwaizumi’s pants fall over his shoes. The tall brunet bent down on one knee and began rolling the charcoal slack’s hem inwards to hide the extra fabric as he folded it once along the hemline, and pinched it to make it look flat so that it sat just brushing the top of his shoes, rather than bunching over it.

_Do not think about how this guy is close to your crotch._

“Sorry, I’m close to your crotch aren’t I,” Oikawa said from his spot on the ground.

“Yep,” Iwaizumi said bluntly. Oh well, if the truth was out, it was out.

“Well it’s the least of your worries at the moment, isn’t it?” Oikawa asked, standing back up and picking the briefcase up with him. He handed it over, and Iwaizumi took it as fast as he could without snatching it outright, and opened up the clips to get to his precious laptop. Booting it up, he entered his first pet cat’s name along with the numbers 1006 into the password box and waited for it to load. Unfortunately, with the long while he had spent away from the laptop, and the probable millions of tabs and files he had open while making the presentation, the laptop was booting slowly.

“… Should you hit it till it breaks?” Oikawa asked over his shoulder, peering as Iwaizumi knelt on the ground with the laptop on the floor. Startled, Iwaizumi genuinely forgot Oikawa was there, though once he looked at him again he didn’t know how he forgot seeing as Oikawa was the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on. Staring at the long lashes and gorgeous brown eyes, Iwaizumi opened his mouth to reply.

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard, what is wrong with you?”

Oikawa pouted in response, and Iwaizumi turned back to his laptop.

“It’s my motto in life, it’s just what I go by,” he heard Oikawa sulk. “… I didn’t _actually_ mean hit the damn thing until it’s broken, yeesh,” Oikawa muttered, and Iwaizumi sighed.

“In what goddamn context do you mean then,” Iwaizumi asked, trying to be polite to the stranger who had just run across town to get him his laptop.

“When I say it, I mean give it your goddamn best until the very end when it’s broken, and if it breaks, build it back up and do it all over again,” Oikawa’s voice said lowly, and Iwaizumi felt his eyes widen as a shudder travelled down his back. Looking back up at Oikawa with wide eyes and his lips parted, Oikawa had a look of utter concentration on his face, like he meant every word he said. The moment had passed however, and Oikawa smiled sunnily, contrasting to the person Iwaizumi had witnessed just then, and he continued to speak but in a higher pitch in a friendlier tone. “Sometimes I say it to mean good luck too, but in this case, you might need it Iwa-chan.”

“What the-”

“Oh, it loaded!” Oikawa gushed, pointing his finger at the screen and accidentally knocking Iwaizumi’s nose to point it out. Flinching, Iwaizumi batted his arm away and began to click his way to the file path for the presentation. He glanced at the time in the corner of the screen. 8:45am on the dot. _Fuck!_

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi asked tightly. “Could you please open the doors and see if they're waiting for me?” Oikawa stared at him for a moment, unmoving, until he gently made his way to the heavy wooden doors and pushed them open a touch. A male voice on a microphone filtered through, and Oikawa closed it again.

“Looks like they’re still running through the introductions,” Oikawa said softly, and Iwaizumi nodded as he finally found the file, and clicked on it to load.

After a few moments of tension, the file loaded, and Iwaizumi nearly dropped his laptop in relief.

It was all there. The slides, the numbers, the graphs and information, all in his hands and ready to go, by some god forsaken miracle. Iwaizumi felt indescribable relief at holding the laptop in his hands, reunited after a huge clusterfuck of a morning. Then, as the whole morning’s stress began to settle in, Iwaizumi remembered this morning and began to pale and felt a cold sweat drip down his forehead and back, shutting the laptop with a click.

“I-Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked in shock, stepping back. “Are you okay? Is this normal?” Iwaizumi held a hand up to console him but bent over slightly, his other hand covering his cramping stomach as he slowly stood up.

“It, ah, no,” Iwaizumi began, as he tried to look back up again at Oikawa. “It’s just, I just faced a really important business CEO, looked him in the eyes, and pretty much demanded he let me present my shitty presentation, even when I couldn’t guarantee you’d arrive, and accepted his challenge by saying I wouldn’t disappoint him.” Oikawa raised an eyebrow at him and waited for him to continue. “I guess I just realised that if I fuck this up, and I was over cocky for no reason, I just fucked up my life, _and_ my company,” he said, feeling sicker by the second. “I’m late to presenting by like 5 minutes, I barely have my presentation, I don’t even have my speech notes, _and_ , I feel like throwing up,” he finished. Moments of quiet passed as Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi appraisingly, almost as though he were analysing him. After a little while, Oikawa began to open his mouth.

“Do you not really have any self-confidence, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, and Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. _Well that was blunt_ , he thought to himself. He pondered the words in his head as he slowly thought of an answer, taking his time and looking at the logic of the situation.

“It’s not that I lack self-confidence,” Iwaizumi answered slowly, knowing that he was self-assured and that everything he had done, he had put a 110% into it. “I guess public speaking never really sat well with me, and this is my first huge gig for this company.” Oikawa looked thoughtful at Iwaizumi’s reply, and he kept talking as the nerves crawled back into his veins again. “But I worked hard for this opportunity. I put in the hours, I did my share of work and more, and I can confidently say, that I practiced my fucking ass off for this, so.” A beat of silence passed before them, and Iwaizumi felt twitchy just waiting for this handsome (beautiful) stranger to respond to him.

“Then,” Oikawa began, tilting his head forward in a way that Iwaizumi reluctantly found cute. “If you’ve put the effort into it and practiced it with all you’ve got, what have you got to worry about?” Eyes widening in shock, Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa in surprise. Oikawa raised an eyebrow as he frowned lopsidedly. “Am I wrong?”

Iwaizumi’s fingers twitched by his side as he stared at Oikawa, this beautiful man that raised hell for him this morning; a beautiful man that spoke with the grace and the confidence of someone who believed in working hard to truly get the results you wanted. Someone who looked at him with sharp eyes and gave the honest truth with an even sharper tongue. Feeling more confident as each moment passed, Iwaizumi swiped his tongue over his dry lower lip, and Oikawa began to smirk, as though he could sense the rising tide of confidence and calm that washed over Iwaizumi’s being.

“So. Has Iwa-chan got anything to be nervous about?” Iwaizumi felt his lips upturn into a lopsided smirk, and Oikawa’s smirk dropped into a look of surprise. Hearing such simple but truthful logic come from someone other than himself was refreshing, and after the morning that Iwaizumi had, he supposed he needed to hear it to remember where he was and what he was doing.

“No. I guess I don’t.”

The moment of surprise passed, and Oikawa’s look became dangerous, almost predatory.

“Like I said,” Oikawa said lowly, stepping forward and smoothing his cool palms over Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders in Oikawa’s tight shirt. “Hit it till it breaks.” Iwaizumi let out a slow exhale, and nodded his head at Oikawa, stepping away from him and towards the auditorium, where the whole audience sat waiting for him. He tucked the laptop under his arm, held the briefcase in his other hand, and looked back at a smirking Oikawa. Iwaizumi’s eyes dropped to the teal blue tie in Oikawa’s hand, and turned to walk away from him.

... How does one begin to even ask someone if they realise the tie in their hand matches the colour of the dildo they packed for their week long work trip inside the shirt they were borrowing?

Iwaizumi told himself in his head _don’t mention it. Just leave it. Don't scare him off. Just leave it. Just leave it. Just-_

An image of Oikawa’s striking, handsome face filled his mind, smirking and confident, powerful and dominant, probably just as beautiful and sexy and-

_Wouldn’t it be beautiful to see him blush?_

_“Hit it till it breaks.”_

_Fuck, whatever._

“Oh, by the way,” Iwaizumi started casually, turning around as he paused in his step. He turned to give Oikawa a smirk as the model looked at him in genuine confusion, not knowing what the stern businessman would say next. “Nice dildo,” he said calmly with a nod, pointedly looking down at the tie in Oikawa’s loose fingers. “Matches the exact same shade as my tie,” he commented before taking absolute pleasure in watching Oikawa’s face turn a mortifying shade of red and his expression turned from shock into absolute horror, the model himself practically vibrating on the spot with how hard he was trembling.

Iwaizumi moved forward and pushed open the doors to the auditorium where his presentation was going to be held, and Oikawa’s unnaturally high pitched scream of _“IWAIZUMI!!”_ was cut off by the closing of the heavy wooded double doors with sound proofed lining. All eyes turned towards him because of this, but amazingly, Iwaizumi felt at ease with himself as he strode confidently towards the presenter’s podium and began setting up his laptop with the HDMI cables. As the audience stared at him, some whispers started up, but Iwaizumi was deaf to them, could only hear Oikawa’s questioning voice as it echoed in his head.

_“So. Has Iwa-chan got anything to be nervous about?”_

At that, Iwaizumi felt a warm feeling of peace spread from his chest outwards, and he raised his eyes up to the audience, and gave a crooked smirk to the dying whispers. He was the one in command of the room now, and he felt it as he took one deep breath, and exhaled slowly to begin his speech. Had he glanced in Nekomata’s direction, he would have noticed the older male smile in approval.

“I’m very sorry for the delay. I wanted to ensure before I started that I had all the essentials to giving you the best information I could give you today. Good morning my fellow associates and respected colleagues.” The auditorium doors silently opened as Iwaizumi began to speak, and he glanced upwards at the door to see Oikawa sidle in and stand at the back of the room. His face was still flushed a pretty red, and his face was a mixture between indignation and acceptance, but he gave a small smirk to Iwaizumi and flashed a thumbs up at him. “I’m here today with the intention of…” Still not taking his eyes off of him, he watched as Oikawa slowly dropped his thumb to sensually drag his hand down his chest, and over the teal blue tie that he now donned, wrapped snugly around his flushed neck that led up to Oikawa’s slowly reddening face. Iwaizumi licked his bottom lip as a slow smile spread across his face. “… getting each and every one of you to learn of the name, Karasuno Incorporated, and walk away from this auditorium _knowing_ that if you work with us, you will reach places you could never go before.”

\----

Iwaizumi gave it his all.

He paused at the right moments, presented the important numbers and data, answered questions knowledgeably, and shut down any that tried to smart talk him with few choice words. He even, out of usual fashion, pointed out the weaknesses that Karasuno held at the moment, but held plans and strategy models for all of them, pointing out the ways that they could and _were_ growing, and all throughout, had everybody’s attention hooked.

After the presentation, Iwaizumi felt himself glow with pride as he saw Nekomata nod approvingly throughout the whole speech, saw other businessmen and top notch names write down notes in their notepads, and didn’t see one yawner. Bowing, he waited for the applause to finish before detaching his laptop and taking two steps at a time to take a seat at the very back where Oikawa sat, and settled himself next to him, feeling giddy. Turning to look at Oikawa with a huge grin on his face, the pretty male was no longer trying to be sexual, still wearing his tie but turning to look at Iwaizumi with a shy, but wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his eyelashes lowered slightly. Iwaizumi felt himself blinking rapidly to try and come to terms with the beauty he was staring at, and watched as Oikawa turned his face back to the front of the auditorium, but with a slight flush of pink to his soft, high cheekbones. Feeling elated, Iwaizumi turned back to the front as well, unable to keep the grin off his face as he linked his fingers in his lap, propped his ankle onto his other knee and brushed against Oikawa’s knee gently, grinning wider when the other male didn’t pull away.

At the end of the presentations by midday, Nekomata wrapped up the convention with a final speech, a promise of contacting potential investors and giving wise words about networking in general, before a round of applause broke, and then the whole thing was over. Iwaizumi and Oikawa waited patiently for the rest of the crowd to stretch their legs and shuffle out, and when Iwaizumi stood up, he noticed Nekomata was coming his way.

“I’ll come back,” Oikawa murmured into his ear, leaning close enough so that Iwaizumi could smell his flowery cologne, and Iwaizumi nodded as his eyes followed Nekomata up the stairs, and Oikawa exited behind him.

“Good presentation today, my boy,” Nekomata complimented, slapping Iwaizumi’s arm firmly twice on his elbow as he walked up to him. “I must say, I didn’t expect much from you after this morning’s fiasco,” he laughed, and Iwaizumi felt himself sweat. Was this a compliment or not? “But with the numbers you showed me, and the way you held yourself, consider me impressed by Karasuno Incorporated today,” Nekomata continued. “I will definitely consider looking into your company in the near future; I’ll organise something with Daichi soon.” Iwaizumi felt his lips wobble into a scowl even though all he wanted to do was smile, and he bowed again at 90 degrees.

“Thank you so much sir!” he exclaimed. He remained bowing for a few more moments as Nekomata laughed whole-heartedly, and patted his shoulder to tell him to stand back up. Iwaizumi couldn’t keep the grin off his face this time, and watched as Nekomata opened his eyes slyly, holding Iwaizumi’s bicep in a firm grip.

“You lost the tie as well I see,” Nekomata said shrewdly, and Iwaizumi’s cheeks flushed. “Good choice,” he chuckled, giving Iwaizumi’s arm another two claps and then walking off to mingle with other businessmen waiting to schmooze up to him. Sighing in relief, Iwaizumi felt the stresses of that entire debacle wash away, and he stood there, alone, as he revelled in the feeling of having no other nerve-wracking commitments coming his way.

“Iwa-chan~!”

Except maybe one.

Iwaizumi looked up and saw Oikawa striding towards him on his long legs, and Iwaizumi tried to tell himself he wasn’t staring.

“Iwa-chan, good job today!” Oikawa complimented, beaming at him as he stood in front, and Iwaizumi noticed that Oikawa was actually slightly, infuriatingly, a little taller than him.

“Thanks. God, I really owe it to you, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi sighed out, laughing in relief afterwards. Feeling a little rush of bravery, he turned back to Oikawa with a lopsided grin. “Here, for your help today, I’ll treat you to lunch right now,” he asked, watching as Oikawa’s expression shifted into a grimace, and wow, fuck, Iwaizumi really fucked that one up real fast. Way to go, first to nearly fuck up the company, now, to fuck up all and any chance with this fucking handsome _supermodel, and didn’t he say earlier they were going on a date?!-_

“Sorry Iwa-chan, I’m actually in trouble,” Oikawa said sheepishly. “I was meant to go back to a photoshoot like 3 hours ago, but I just wanted to stay close to you.” Iwaizumi felt the back of his neck and ears flush, and his heart began to fall out of rhythm.

“Oh. Well, can’t keep them waiting then, I guess,” Iwaizumi said awkwardly. “I’ll give you my number so we can decide on dinner later?” he followed up, hopeful.

Oikawa was a little fanciful, talked way too familiarly on first meetings, and delegated Iwaizumi the worst nickname he had ever heard for a fully grown male adult, but. He was goddamn gorgeous. He was beautiful, and confident, and had a burning sense of pride and seemingly, a good hard-working sense of ethic, and Iwaizumi was not stupid enough to let this male who seemed interested in him _back_ , go.

“Ah, my um. My phone’s broken,” Oikawa said weakly, and Iwaizumi just wanted to shoot himself then and there. He thought he was an adult that could take rejection when he saw it, but he stood there, stock still as he tried to process what had just happened. How was he reading everything so _wrong?_ Was he always this bad?

Oikawa leaned forward however, and reached for Iwaizumi’s hand as he pulled out a pen from his pocket, and began writing something on the top of his hand. Dumbfounded, Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa’s warm (soft) hands pulled away, and left 11 digits on his hand. Blank, Iwaizumi looked down at his hand, and then back up at Oikawa who was beginning to turn away and wave, but avoiding eye contact as he had a flush on his cheeks again.

“But you can call me though, okay Iwa-chan? I’m getting a new phone this afternoon. You promised me dinner!” he said cheerily, walking away as Iwaizumi raised a hand dumbly in response, still not realising what had just happened.

After moments of standing there, with his hand still up, Iwaizumi felt a grin wobble its way onto his face as he raised his hand into a fist, and brought it down with a small internal cheer.

Floating on cloud 9, Iwaizumi first made his way back to the hotel, calling a sobbing but relieved Kindaichi on the way, thanking him for his help, before calling a shouting, ecstatic and worried Daichi as well.

That conversation had several ups and downs, including volume wise, as Daichi both yelled his congratulations and gave stern lectures on the importance of being attentive and careful next time but overall just thankful that Iwaizumi had done so well. Nekomata had apparently sent a brief email praising Iwaizumi’s performance, and to Daichi, that basically meant he was being sung praises, and the company couldn’t have done better.

 _“I swear, Suga and I are looking to adopt,”_ Daichi rambled in his lecture to Iwaizumi. _“But if they cause me as much stress and grief as you did today, Iwaizumi, I think I’d be a dead man. BUT I’M SO GODDAMN PROUD OF YOU-”_

Time couldn’t pass fast enough after that phone call, as Iwaizumi went between pacing the floors, reading his book, and adding Oikawa’s number into his phone before he did something idiotic like wash it off (although he struggled to read the last number because he had nearly sweated the damn thing off). He watched the digital clock on his bedside flicker to 5pm, thinking that was maybe an acceptable time to call, when he dialled Oikawa’s number with sweaty palms.

 _“Yoooo?”_ a lazy voice drawled, and Iwaizumi’s hands had practically retracted all the sweat back as his mind blanked. _“Hellooo?”_ the voice continued to ask, most _definitely_ not fucking Oikawa’s, and for fucks sake, did he just get given a fake number-

 _“Kuroo! Give it back!”_ a higher pitched male voice whined in the background, and Iwaizumi momentarily contemplated dying, considering the absolute roller coaster and ups and downs of his emotions today.

 _I don’t think I can take much more_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself, even as he heard Oikawa fight the other male for the mobile phone.

 _“Iwa-chan?”_ Oikawa said breathlessly, and Iwaizumi didn’t even know he was smiling until he started talking.

“Hey.”

 _“Iwa-chan! Hi!”_ Oikawa said breathlessly, and Iwaizumi felt the silly smile on his face expand as a fluttering danced around his stomach.

“Are you still up for dinner?” Iwaizumi asked. He heard a cackle in the background, and Oikawa’s flustering on top.

 _“Oh, he’s definitely ‘up’ for dinner,”_ the voice cackled, as Oikawa shrieked at the other to shut up.

 _“Iwa-chan, will you still take me out for dinner if I kill somebody?”_ Oikawa said between grit teeth, and Iwaizumi, ashamed and a little embarrassed, felt his heart leap at the sound of Oikawa’s low voice grinding out a threat.

“I’ll help you bury the body,” Iwaizumi said automatically, and that was the moment future Oikawa had told him, he had fallen in love with him.

 _“Great, look, I’m sorry, I’m still doing the shoot with this idiot, but when we finish, I’ll call you? Text me the details! Bye!”_ Oikawa could be heard as he rushed the words out, but before Iwaizumi could say bye back, or hang up the call, he heard Oikawa’s guttural yell of _“Kuroo I will fucking **kill** you!”_ before the dial tone greeted his ears. Feeling himself smile fondly, Iwaizumi hooked his phone up to his charger, and tried his best to distract himself for the next few hours until Oikawa got off work.

Iwaizumi didn’t have any other clothes to wear, so he went for unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of Oikawa’s shirt (he saw the way Oikawa was staring at his chest and his biceps, he has eyes, he’s not an idiot) and re-ironed his charcoal slacks, donning them and spraying a burst of cologne before he went out the door, suitcase forgotten in the room.

Iwaizumi selected a simple sushi restaurant that night, no smoking inside the premises as Oikawa revealed he didn’t like the smell of smoke in text messages when they were deciding on a restaurant. Pulling up to the outside of the restaurant in a taxi, Iwaizumi paid his fare and exited the vehicle, pausing in his step as he saw Oikawa standing there, dressed in a different set of clothing.

This time, he was wearing a loose white, crew neck t shirt with blue ripped skinny jeans and a dark navy casual blazer on top. He had glasses on, thick rimmed but only half frame, and Iwaizumi couldn’t take his eyes away.

He saw Oikawa’s eyes dip down to his exposed collarbones however, and to his biceps again, where Oikawa’s eyes lingered before making eye contact with him. Iwaizumi smirked, feeling more confident than he had in a while, and walked up to stop in front of him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Oikawa said back.

“Ready to go in?” Iwaizumi asked, nodding his head towards the restaurant, and Oikawa nodded, trailing behind him.

“Oh,” Oikawa said, pausing before he walked in. Iwaizumi turned to look at him with a brow raised.

“Hm?”

“I didn’t bring the suitcase,” Oikawa said, not really looking apologetic or regretful about it at all. Iwaizumi grinned back.

“Me either,” he replied, and Oikawa’s lips spread into a small smile as his eyes did that soft crinkle at the corners again. “Looks like we’ll have to meet again tomorrow to exchange them,” Iwaizumi said boyishly, and Oikawa took the step forward to press a soft kiss to his lips, both slender hands coming up to cup Iwaizumi’s face. After they separated, Iwaizumi blinked his eyes open slowly, feeling drunk on Oikawa’s clean, flowery smell, as Oikawa smiled slyly at him.

“Looks like it,” he said lowly, as the two smiled and linked fingers, walking into the restaurant together.

That night, dinner was probably the best night of Iwaizumi’s life. They shared small smiles, swapped facts about each other, and shared stories that brought laughing tears to Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s eyes as the two hit it off, and felt comfortable together in a way they never had with anyone before. Reluctant to separate, but knowing the night was getting late and Oikawa had to work the next morning, the two shared another brief kiss, and a promise for dinner the next night.  
  


The two exchanged suitcases and returned to Tokyo at different times after that, messaging and calling in between. Then one dinner became six, dinners became lunches, ten dates turned into one night spent at the other’s, and eleven months later found the two moving in together in a spacious 1LDK close to the heart of Tokyo.

And after all that, Iwaizumi could not have been more grateful for his mother buying him that luggage case, and for losing it on that flight from Tokyo to Osaka that day.

They also made good use of the matching tie and dildo combination during their time spent together.

\----

“All packed and ready to go then?” Iwaizumi’s sleep rough voice asked. Oikawa hummed an affirmative in response, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Iwaizumi’s sleep-soft lips as they stood in the doorway.

“All packed and ready to go~” Oikawa sang lowly. The two shared a slow kiss, and Iwaizumi pulled away first, eyes blearily opening. “Hmm, I’m going to miss you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa leaned in for more kisses, and Iwaizumi obliged, closing his eyes again. The two didn’t go beyond their chaste, close-mouthed kisses, but time began to stretch and Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was procrastinating.

“Oi, oi. You’ll be late. Come on. You ready to go?” Iwaizumi said roughly, pulling away, and Oikawa nodded as he brought up a peace sign as a sort of salute to his head, sticking his tongue out and winking.

A pastel green alien head luggage tag sat proudly on a hard, dark navy suitcase with white accents and a black pull up handle. “Ready to go. Bye, Iwa-chan!”

“Then. Take care,” Iwaizumi said sleepily, waving a hand up.

“I’ll be taking my leave. Watch Ivan for me~” Oikawa said cheerily, opening the apartment door.

“Don’t take the wrong luggage case again,” Iwaizumi teased, a smirk on his tired features. Oikawa smirked back as his hand went to close the door.

“I’ve got a tag on it now, Iwa-chan. I don’t need any more romantic fateful meetups when I have you~” he sang, watching with increasing satisfaction as a flush graced Iwaizumi’s tanned cheeks. “What could go wrong?” he asked, the alien luggage tag bobbing up and down where it sat on his suitcase’s side handle. The two said their farewells with one last kiss, and Oikawa closed the door, locking up as he made his way to the elevator for another work trip.

In the storage unit downstairs, an identical suitcase sat, dark navy with white accents, with a Godzilla luggage tag attached to its side handle. Both luggage tags were written in loopy, neat kanji and hiragana with identical love hearts, the owner’s name and contact number scrawled onto both as though it were an afterthought.

\----

_\- One year later -_

“So,” Kuroo began, lounging with one leg hanging off the side of Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s shared lounge chair, munching on a bag of chips in their living room while Iwaizumi was still at work.

“Hrm?” Oikawa grunted, cutting his toenails on the larger couch and filing them neatly. On his left hand, a beautiful platinum band glinted in the light on his ring finger, a small diamond embedded in the metal dancing with the sunlight that filtered through the open balcony door.

“Am I the best man at your wedding?” Kuroo asked, crunching on a chip as he finished the question that he very well knew the answer to.

“No,” Oikawa said bluntly, surveying his toenails at different angles before going in to file them evenly again.

“Aw what? Come on, I know Suga is your best friend, but I’m practically the reason you and Iwaizumi got together,” Kuroo half complained, not really meaning it, but complaining for the hell of it.

Mid clip, Oikawa paused in his ministrations as he contemplated Kuroo’s words in his head, and tilted his face up to look at him.

“…what?”

“You know. That whole luggage thing. Which is like a romcom and a half by the way,” Kuroo drawled, wiping his hands on a tissue to remove the grease and salt before picking up the TV remote to change the channel. “I grabbed the luggage bag off the conveyer belt first remember? You and I were having a stupid fight over something, and I was being a sook ‘cause Kenma couldn’t come,” he kept explaining, leaning his head onto a fist that he supported with a knee, channel surfing comfortably while Oikawa slowly boiled to an exploding point. “So really, if I hadn’t pulled the bag off as soon as I saw it, you might not have made that mistake and you may never have met Iwa at all.”

The abrupt changes in voices and sounds of the TV channels changing were the only sounds that filled the room for long moments, until Oikawa snapped.

“I will pull off every single one of your toe nails with pliers, do you hear me, Kuroo Tetsurou?” Oikawa growled, standing up from his position on the couch as he held nail clippers in one hand, and a nail file in the other. Startled, Kuroo turned to look over at Oikawa as he stood up.

“What? Wait, what the fuck, I just _told_ you if it weren’t for me-”

“Do you even _know_ how many mental breakdowns you caused that day, you absolute rooster _shit head_?!” Oikawa began to yell, raising his voice. “Iwa-chan, Dai-chan and I all pretty much had meltdowns of _various_ kinds, because of you-”

“The ends justify the means-”

“And you _broke_ my phone with all my _good photos of Takeru-_ ”

“Hey, Oikawa, calm down, _hey! Leave the eyebrows alone, fuck! HEY!!!”_

That night, Kuroo sulked home to Kenma with one eyebrow intact, and one eyebrow half shaved, and he didn’t talk to Oikawa for weeks until the eyebrow had grown back. Petulant but feeling justified about his actions, Oikawa crossed his arms and turned his head away from Iwaizumi snootily, who was currently popping a vein yelling at Oikawa and lecturing him _“not to_ do _that childish shit anymore, Shittykawa, stop fucking up Kuroo’s appearance, you_ know _Kenma doesn’t like that!”_ After apologies were exchanged, and amends were made, Oikawa could, sort of, not really, maybe see the sliver of good in Kuroo picking up the wrong bag from the luggage claim that day.

If he gave Kuroo more lavish gifts for his birthday and Christmas than usual, and treated him to coffees at work more often than not, who was to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it! I did get iffy towards the middle of it, but I think I'm happy as I post this? I'm so tired I don't even know.
> 
> I only half edited this, I'll read it again tomorrow.
> 
> Ivan the house plant is named after Italian volleyball player Ivan Zaytsev :)


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